


Wailing of Winds

by ohhliv



Category: Original Work
Genre: Character Death, F/F, F/M, Gay, Gay Male Character, Heterosexual Character, Horror, Lesbian Character, Lesbian Character of Color, M/M, Murder, Murder Mystery, Mystery, Original Character(s), Original Fiction, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-13
Updated: 2020-03-13
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:15:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23125351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohhliv/pseuds/ohhliv
Summary: Osana Huddson simply wanted to go on a break from her daily stressful life. Only to find herself trapped in a house with seven other people. One of which is a murderer, and the only way to leave is to figure out who.
Kudos: 1





	Wailing of Winds

Verdant green and white snow caps covered the surrounding expanse of landscape as the irregular pounding of tire against uncommon road jostled Osana in her seat. Excitement building in her bones and tingling the tip of her tongue as each rotation led her closer and closer to her destination. Finally, time to herself. No work, no distractions, nothing but the mountain and trees around her. Even after graduating a year ago she was hired immediately to the Polk County Sheriff's Department as a forensic analyst. No time to plan summer vacations or outings with friends. Instead, she was dropped immediately into the fray of first responders. Thankfully the Commissioner allowed her two weeks of freedom before being tied back into the grueling, yet fulfilling drum of work. 

She sighed as the thoughts of work subconsciously tensed her muscles. Reaching behind her braids she massaged her neck lightly and leaned back in her seat. The flight from Iowa to Portland was not the most pleasant experience, nor was haggling for a decent price on a rental car. Yet here she was, five hours later and twenty minutes from the bed and breakfast. Reaching down she turned the knob to the volume higher on the previously quiet, unintelligible ramblings of radio hosts. 

“--later today folks we’re supposed to see a bit of cloudiness with some winds coming from the east, which will bring an oncoming snowstorm hopefully by the end of this week. Though we may see an accumulation of snow earlier than predicted. Now, Christie, I heard we have a special guest in the studio today--” Osana turned the radio back down. 

‘Nothing interesting.’ She thought to herself.

About fifteen minutes had passed until Osana began to see the white crown of Mt. Hood peeking its head from the looming brushes of the evergreens. In awe, she could barely keep her eyes on the winding road, having to pull herself back to reality on the occasions of sudden turns and bumps. Her phone dinged twice as her GPS signaled her near arrival. Looking ahead and squinting, a light blue weathered sign with white trim and gold lettering stuck out amongst the thin layer of snow and wintergrass; ‘Sullivan’s Bed and Breakfast’. Its paint chipping away as the wood beneath it warped against the winter winds. Osana squealed and wiggled in her seat as she turned onto the long driveway leading toward the house.

It stood tall above her, about two stories, with a grey gabled roof. Its dark wooden exterior framed with green manicured hedges. The windows all held a small stained glass detail shaped like a flower within the middle of its pane and thick cream-colored curtains drawn in the interior. A wide front porch held a couch swing, a few chairs, and a small table between them. It was a large home that somehow seemed cozy even from the outside. 

Unplugging her phone from the car charger, Osana got out and stretched her stiff legs; the joints in her knees and hips screaming in relief as she stretched. 

“Oh, hello there!” a voice called out to her, it cracked with warmth as it rose in pitch. She turned to her right to see an older man in a thick, well-used denim jacket and matching tan corduroy pants. He waved a calloused hand in her direction, his skin spotted by the sun and stretched against his remaining muscles. His face was dominated by a bushy white mustache that crowded his lips and gathering crows-feet wrinkled on his eyes as he smiled. 

“Hi!” Osana beamed back as she began to unpack her car

. 

“Let me help you with those.” The man came to her side with a surprising spryness in his step as she gathered her belongings before closing the car door. “My name is Frank Sullivan,” he held out a hand, “nice to meet you.” 

“Osana Huddson, a pleasure.” She took his hand and shook it, melting into it as a child would their grandparents grasp.

Frank motioned to take one of Osana’s bags and began to walk back toward the house; Osana in tow. As they both stomped up the wooden steps, they bent and creaked with storied use. It was almost eerie how quiet their surroundings were. She was used to the cacophony of honking of horns and slurred absurdities that arose from weekend bacchanals; the city’s constant lull. Out here, only the whisper of trees and snow grace the ears of those who stop and listen. 

The tinkling of a bell above the door as it opened brought Osana out of her subconsciousness. As she walked into the house she was faced with a wave of warmth and cinnamon-- or maybe it was star anise. Immediately she felt her body sigh, her muscles sagged and her thoughts rested for once in years. She felt home, even though she was far from it.

“Frank is that you?” The soft, scratchy voice of a female echoed out from what was presumably the kitchen. Frank set Osana’s bag down by the grand staircase on the left that seemed to lead to the second story of the house. The first story opened to the right, into a large living room that scaled at least twenty feet high and was accented with a chandelier. Not a gaudy one, of course, just a simple, practical illuminating accent. Osana walked forward into the sitting area, two couches, and three chairs all surrounding a heavy oak table while a stone fireplace roared behind it. She brushed her hand over one of the chairs, all of them seemed to be of similar make. Thick, hand-carved pine wood with a rich dark glossy glaze that surrounded deep green cushions. It was simple yet seemed like it belonged in a politician's study. On a side table next to one of the chairs was a photograph of a couple in black and white. A man and a woman, seemingly in their twenties, stood side by side with bright smiles in front of a ‘Mt. Hood National Forest’ sign. 

Footsteps approached from beyond Osana. She looked up to see Frank alongside an older woman. Her hair thinning and white, yet her face seemed vibrant and full of life. She was a bit stout yet gave off the feeling of unconditional maternal warmth. Osana immediately loved her. 

“Oh my dear,” she reached up to hug Osana tightly, “I am so glad you decided to stay here. You will find your trip wonderful. The forest, the mountain, hopefully, you'll even make some friends with the other guests. I know we have a full house scheduled for this week.” 

Osana nodded, “ You have no idea how long I have been looking forward to this trip Mrs. Sullivan.” 

“Please, call me Gloria.” She wiped her hands on her light pink apron and began to make her way back into the kitchen. “I have some refreshments for you and the other guests. They shouldn’t be too long now.” 

“I’ll show her to her room,” Frank called back to her.

Frank made his way back to where he had placed her bag by the staircase and began to make his way up the stairs. Osana followed behind. 

“Now this house was built back in 1898 to a Mr. and Mrs.Heathcliff. After they passed, in 1922 a musician from northern California had bought the property and renovated it so he could escape the prying eyes of the public. Then--” Frank pauses to take the last step and sighs as his knees begin to ache. “-- in 1965, Gloria and I bought this property, renovated and upgraded it into a bed and breakfast. All the rooms on the second floor are bedrooms for guests. While our room is on the first floor to your right, after you pass the kitchen if you need anything.”

The second floor consisted of a landing that stretched out into a balcony looking over the living room and two corridors. One leading left and one leading right with a window facing toward the mountain in the middle. Both corridors held a series of three doors on either side and one door at the end of the hallway. Frank led her down the right hallway to a door that faced two more across from it. On the doors were small chalkboard placards. Where, scrawled in beautiful handwriting, the names of each guest. Frank opened the door with her name and gestured dramatically. 

“My lady, if you would.”

Osana laughed and walked in. The smell of old rich wood and lavender danced with the midday sunlight that streamed into her room through the linen curtains. There was a vase of flowers on an oak dresser and deep green sheets tucked neatly on a matching bed. A rocking chair with a stack of books and brochures sat in the corner of the room and ivy crawled next to it on the window sill. It was a simple sort of cozy that brought a sense of calm to the room; perfect. 

“You were the first to book your stay so Gloria wanted to give you the larger of the rooms in this wing.” Frank motioned to the other two doors across from her. ‘Colton’ and ‘Jae’. Colton’s room was directly across, while Jae’s was to the right. “These will be your neighbors for the next week I’m sure you will all get along well. This door right here--” Frank pointed toward the door at the end of the hallway, “--is the bathroom, please be considerate of others.” 

He smiled and patted Osana on the shoulder. “I’m sure you won’t have an issue. When others arrive could you tell them the same things as well? Finding rooms, where the bathroom is, where Gloria and I’s room is as well.” 

Osana nodded, “Of course.”

\--------

Only a few minutes had passed while Osana began to unpack her belongings when she heard the tinkling bell of the door again. The sound of heavy boots on the wood floor as they stomped off snow and debris raised her curiosity to make her way over to the balcony to see who had come in. A man, around her age, in heavy winter wear and military boots looked up at her. His warm taupe skin caused his teeth to shine white as he grinned a friendly hello. 

And thus the characters of this game began to fall into their checkered positions.


End file.
